The Trouble with Patience (21 page)

Keeping out of sight of any who might be lingering in the street, Jedediah sidled up to the window while the coffee brewed. Most of the crowd had dispersed, but a few folks were still hanging around. He couldn't see Monty among them and hoped this would be the end of it.

He poured coffee into two blue-and-white spatter mugs
and sat down to face Patience. She took the cup from him, her fingers brushing his fingertips. He wanted to hold those fingers against his chest and tell her he was sorry for the sadness reflected in those lovely eyes.

She blew on the coffee to cool it, looked at him over the rim of her mug, then finally took a sip.

To his amazement she said, “You're getting better at coffee making.”

“Thank you. Fresh is always better.”
So
has she decided she can find it in her heart
to forgive me?

He paused a moment before quietly asking, “Patience, could you tell me more about the man you were going to marry?”

She twisted one way, then the other, in the chair, finally putting her mug down on a nearby table. “There's really not much to tell. Russell was beginning to add to his small herd, and he worked hard building a ranch with his brother, Nathan. He was courting me, and I believe he was getting ready to ask me to marry him . . .” She gazed out the window, a faraway look in her eyes, and Jedediah wondered if she had truly loved this man. If so, how deep was that love? And maybe most significant, how were her feelings affected by what she had learned today from Nathan?

“So he hadn't actually asked you yet?”

She sat up straighter. “Well . . . not in so many words.” Then she looked down at her coffee. “Now that I think about it, I may have assumed too much. I couldn't bring myself to ask Nathan about it today, but I think he wouldn't want to hurt my feelings if the answer was no.”

Jedediah sighed. “Either way, I'm sorry Russell didn't ask you, but hanging him was legal—fair and square.”
Though
if I
had known it was going to hurt you, I would
not have done it
. He sighed again. “If it hadn't been for the Montana Vigilantes, we wouldn't have been able to keep up with all the crimes the road agents were responsible for. We were able to rid Montana of some of the worst—Clubfoot George Lane and Jack Gallagher, to name a couple.”

Patience cocked her head and looked him straight in the eye. “Then it was fair to hang an innocent man like Cody?”

He almost choked on his coffee. “What are you talking about, Patience? Do you mean Cody who now works at the Cross Bar?”

“One and the same,” she answered in a clipped tone.

Jedediah just stared at her for a long time. “Cody is alive and well,” he mused, looking away.

“Nathan confirmed to me that Cody is the man you hanged that day.”

Jedediah was bewildered and shook his head. “How on earth can that be?” Surely she was confused—he'd watched the man die. Had him cut down and carted away to the medical facility.

“Apparently, Cody's neck didn't snap like it should—” She paused and looked away, her knuckles white as her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She finally said through clenched teeth, “When you told someone to cut the body down, then take it to the local medical teaching lab for research, he wasn't actually dead, but his throat was severely injured. That's why he has a raspy sounding voice—he's fortunate that he can talk at all. Cody explained to me that he wears the blue neckerchief to cover the scar. He said he was innocent, and I believed him when he told me. Now Nathan confirms it. Cody came here to find the one who hanged him, though I
didn't know it was you till today.” She looked away and gave a long sigh. “It's a lot for me to take in, I don't mind saying, especially knowing you had a hand in Russell's death.”

Jedediah leaned back in his chair, his heart as heavy as he'd ever felt it. Now he knew why Cody seemed familiar, but the raspy voice had thrown him off.
I am responsible for the hangings
. He shook his head, bewilderment once more coming over him like a shroud.

“Come to think of it,” he finally said, “I didn't ever see Cody's face. It was covered with a muslin sack.” He paused, thinking. “Is he looking for revenge?”

“Something like that, but I've been trying to talk to him about moving on in his life and learning to forgive.” Patience lifted her coffee mug once more and took a sip. Then she set it down again and looked at him. “But I am wondering if I can forgive you for not telling me who you really are, Jedediah.”

“You know now, Patience. Do I seem like the same man Nathan talked about?” When Patience didn't answer, he went on. “I sure hope not. I've been doing a lot of soul searching ever since I became marshal here. Though those hangings were legal, like I said, they have been coming back to haunt me. Whether it was moral is another question—one I can't answer right now.” He stared into his cup.

“None of us is perfect, Jed, including me. I'm so glad God loves us, even when we sin and make mistakes.” Her voice caught on the last words.

He looked up to see her eyes were full of tears. “I believe that to be truth. Otherwise, He couldn't love me.” Jedediah spoke quietly. He stood to his feet. “I'm having another cup of coffee. How about you?” She held out her cup.

Maybe we're making some headway
, he thought as he carried their mugs over to the stove. He sure hoped so.

“Is that coffee I smell, Marshal? I could sure use a cup,” Jedediah heard Nathan yell. Patience started to get up, but Jedediah motioned for her to stay seated. “I'll get him a cup,” he told her. “You stay put. We've got more talking to do.” She blinked at him and nodded.

I
sure would love to know what's going through her
mind
, he thought as he brought the coffee to his prisoner. He went back to the stove for the refills and returned to his place for more conversation with Patience.

If it weren't for the current tense situation, Jedediah's office would seem almost cozy, the glow of the lamp casting his shadow on the wall while Patience sipped at her second cup. She was very conscious of the danger, though, as Jed frequently made cautious trips to the window to check on things. She watched him now, standing to one side of the panes and peering out.

Nathan was silent, and Patience figured he'd gone to sleep—or maybe he was praying for a miraculous rescue. She assumed Jedediah lived upstairs, and probably in rather bare-bones accommodations. She suddenly felt sorry for him. He was alone most of the time.
Wonder why he never
married?
she mused. Maybe no woman wanted to have a vigilante for a husband.

Jedediah returned from his check of the street, then pulled his chair closer. “Still some guys out there,” he said as he sat down. Patience rather liked the mixture of leather and soap when he leaned close enough to see her face in the dim light.

“I sure wonder what they're hatching. Hope it's nothing.”

“Maybe they'll realize you are right, that the best way for justice to be done is by the law, and eventually go home.” Jedediah didn't say anything, simply nodded thoughtfully.

Patience chewed her bottom lip, trying to get up her courage, then said, “Jed, why haven't you ever married?”

His face registered surprise. “This new question gives me a momentary reprieve from the uncomfortable discussion about how I've lived my life?”

She felt herself blush and was glad the light wasn't all that bright. “I just wondered, that's all.”

Jedediah leaned forward, both elbows on his knees, cradling his mug. “Truth is, I had found what I thought was a rather nice young woman years ago and wanted to settle down, but the lady jilted me.” He stared at his coffee. “Seems she had her eye on bigger and better things. It took me a long time to get over it, and I've never seemed to find a lady to court since—” He looked up at Patience. “And then I met you. I never had much mothering growing up and was raised in Pennsylvania with little education. I think I already told you I've worked as a shoemaker and a brick maker. Then the small farm in Kansas, but couldn't make a go of it. And now . . . well, only you can tell me about now.”

“I don't know, Jed. I was beginning to think we had something special, but that was before today—before learning more about your past. And not merely your past, but something that directly impacted me. I'm just not sure . . .”

“I have so many regrets,” he finally answered, “things I need to rectify. But some can't be undone. I've made my peace with the Lord, Patience, and now all I want to do is keep the peace in Nevada City. And—if you'll let me—win your heart and your hand.”

Patience took a deep breath and put her cup down. “I—I'll think about that, Jed, and I will pray about it to. I suggest you do that also.”

He smiled and nodded. “Fair enough. So tell me something about you that I don't know.”

“I'm sure you have guessed by now that my mother and I aren't close, never have been. However, when she came here to visit, we were able to close that gap somewhat. I adored my father, but he passed away. I eventually left home because I didn't want my mother to control my adult life as she did my growing-up years. She made it clear to me early on that I was ‘Plain Jane.' I've always worried about how I look to others. I'd like to be as pretty and slender as Emily.” She tried to chuckle, but it really didn't work.

“I'd say you're awfully brave to start out on your own, restoring and running a boardinghouse. That takes a lot of gumption, like my grandma used to say. You're mighty pretty to me, inside and out. I like your cheerfulness and spunk. You make things—well, interesting—and life has gotten a lot more appealing for me with you around.” His eyes crinkled at the corner as he smiled at her. “You don't need to look like or be like anyone else but yourself,” he added.

“Well, the boardinghouse was a gift from my grandmother after she passed. That was another thing my mother didn't like. Actually, I think she didn't like that my grandmother and I were close . . . maybe she felt hurt.” Patience looked away, thinking about that possibility.

“Seems like your mother was pretty hard on you,” Jedediah said after finishing his coffee.

Patience sighed. “It was just her way, once she began having heart problems, and after Russell was . . . was gone.” She
took a deep breath before continuing. “I couldn't bear the ‘I told you so' look in her eyes, nor my friends' pitying glances.” She looked over at him with a rueful expression. “Maybe you were right when you told me I have no humility.”

“I really didn't mean that,” he said quietly. “Well . . . maybe just a little.” He quirked an eyebrow at her, and they both smiled.

She turned serious again. “I think you might be right. I've always expected everyone to live up to my standards and think the way I do, and that's not fair. Actually, come to think of it, that's what I accuse my mother of doing. Maybe we're alike.” Patience was lost in thought for a while. “The last couple of months, while writing in my devotional journal, I believe God has been revealing my own inadequacies. Just like He's done now. I need to learn to be more accepting of others, not rushing to judgment—like I've done with my mother, with Russell, and with you, too, Jed.”

“I'm grateful, Patience.” He reached out and took her hand. “Am I forgiven then?” he asked.

Patience looked over at him with a brief smile. “Forgiven. Can you forgive me for acting so high and mighty?”

Jedediah squeezed both her hands, and leaned over to give her a hug.

A sudden flash of bright light through the window brought them both to their feet, and Patience could see men waving torches high, joining others who had been milling about while she and Jedediah were talking.

“Hey, Marshal! It's time you hand him over,” came a shout that sounded like Monty.

Patience stiffened and put a trembling hand on his arm. “What are you going to do?”

“I'm not rightly sure,” he said, keeping his voice low. “I could let them have Nathan. It's what he deserves for his thievery, but I don't know if I can live with that. Also, I think he could provide information about what really happened with John's murder, knows who might have been involved.” Jedediah drew her toward the dark corner, out of earshot of Nathan. “I'm going to see if I can talk some sense into their thick skulls. Stay here,” he said again with a quick hug.

Patience's heart pounded as she watched him open the door and heard the shouts suddenly louder through the opening. He quickly shut and locked the door behind him.

She didn't want Jedediah to be in harm's way.
Lord
,
please keep him safe
, she prayed. She went back to her seat and prayed earnestly . . . for Jedediah—for Judith—for Nathan.

———

Jedediah prayed he was doing the right thing. He stood at the top of the steps, carbine at his side, and waited for the crowd to settle down. He noticed several women standing among them. Monty was front and center.

The torches illuminated the faces of the mob, their anger and determination clearly evident. He didn't want to rile them any further than they already were.

They had momentarily quieted when he came out of the marshal's office, but now they all started talking at once. They wanted vengeance for John's death—why was he so blind, so stubborn, protecting a killer? On and on it went until Jedediah fired off a bullet into the black sky.

In the sudden silence, he said, “Listen here! I don't appreciate threats, and in case you've forgotten, I am the legally appointed US Marshal and will arrest anyone who ventures
near this door tonight. And a reminder—attacking a marshal is a federal offense.”

Monty stepped out of the crowd. “Jedediah, my friend,” he began, obviously attempting to sound conciliatory, “how can you let that man sit there in your jailhouse after what he's done? Just release him to us, why don't you? We'll take care of—”

“Because it's the law,” Jedediah said, cutting him off, “and we don't have any proof he murdered anyone. He has a right to a trial.” The carbine was hanging down, but anyone could see he was keeping it in position to fire at a moment's notice.

“You've strung men up before,” someone from the back shouted, “and you never minded then. What's got into you?”

“That was a different time, different laws. Now the law is represented by this badge. And this means I will take him to the judge in Virginia City. Step back and stay back. It's my solemn duty to protect the prisoner, and I intend to do it!” Jedediah looked out over the crowd and watched as they muttered among themselves. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Joe, Hannah, and Cody—of all people—coming near.
What's Cody doing here
?

“He's nothing but a coward,” shouted Walt, a known troublemaker, above the other voices, “and he's lost his guts to hang him, but we haven't. Right, men?”

“There's only one of him and plenty of us,” another agreed.

Jedediah raised his carbine. “Don't any of you do anything you'll be sorry for.”

Joe came up the steps and stood beside Jedediah. “I'm with you, Jed! They'll have to climb over me to get inside.”

“Thanks, Joe.”

Another shouted, “I say we get him now, and then we'll all sleep better.”

Cody sidled up to where Jedediah and Joe stood side by side, legs spread, ready to protect the prisoner. “Can I say something?”

The crowd, probably as surprised as Jed, settled down again, and he nodded to Cody.

“Folks, the marshal's right. The man deserves a trial, nothing more but nothing less. Why don't you go home and let Jedediah run him over to Virginia City so the judge can decide if he deserves a hearing.”

“Why should you give a flying bat's wings if he deserves anything more than a rope and a tall tree?” another onlooker asked.

Cody glanced at Jedediah. “Because our laws say every man accused is given a trial, and that's what Jedediah is aiming to do.”

“How do you know?” Walt sneered. “And who the heck are you, anyway?”

“Jedediah used to be a vigilante, but he is a peacemaker now.” Cody whipped the kerchief off his neck, exposing the deep scar on his throat. “This is what the Montana Vigilantes did to me, and I was innocent.” Cody paused, then added, “You see, when people take the law into their own hands, this is the kind of thing that can happen. The wrong man was punished, and that was me.”

There was deep silence over the crowd. Jedediah glanced at the scar, then dropped his gaze, remorse washing over him.
And the man was innocent
whirled through his mind.

Cody continued, “Is that the kind of law you want in this
town? Act first, ask questions later? I hope not. I was lucky when the rope didn't snap my neck.”

Murmurs and whispers were heard, and Jedediah leaned toward Cody. “Why are you doing this?” he asked.

Cody responded, “Two wrongs don't make a right.”

Patience had come out and joined them, slipping one arm through Jedediah's and the other arm through Cody's. Jedediah was honored and humbled.
Why?
he wondered
. I don't deserve this
kind of support.

Slowly the crowd, grumbling and complaining, dispersed to their homes, and Jedediah hoped it was for good. By morning he'd be long gone with the prisoner. Patience, Joe, Cody, and Hannah stepped inside his office, and Hannah hugged Patience while they talked in low voices. The men stayed by the door.

“I want to thank you, Cody. I didn't deserve your help tonight,” Jedediah commented. “I thought I had the right outlaw back then, but I sure was mistaken. It's another proof that real laws work a lot better than a vigilante posse.”

Cody shifted from one foot to the other. “I'll just say every man deserves a second chance. You can thank Patience here for convincing me of that, or else I would've been in the crowd yelling for revenge too and hoping you'd get in the way of a stray bullet.”

Jedediah nodded, not knowing what to say. He held out his hand, and Cody shook it, his face solemn.

Joe said, “Get some shut-eye, Jed. Cody and I will take turns on watch just in case. You need your rest for tomorrow.”

“Joe, why don't you walk Patience and Hannah home first?” Cody asked.

“Good idea. I'll be back.” He crooked his elbows out and turned to the women. “Ladies . . . shall we?”

They both smiled, said good night to Jedediah and Cody, then headed down the street—with Joe recounting with as much pride as if he'd done it himself how Jedediah stood up to the lynch mob.